


Ad Novās Terrās Nāvigābimus

by dominhos_pizza



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Bang Chan goes by Christopher Bang, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I apologize for any previous inconveniences, I write at my own pace, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Prophecies, Stray Kids References Galore, Temporary Pirate Bang Chan, Worldbuilding™
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dominhos_pizza/pseuds/dominhos_pizza
Summary: (direct translation) To New Lands We Will SailThere is one to save.There is one to kill.Follow the two straying pathsOr face the flames.Christopher may have been a renown storyteller who told of magical fantasies back in the day, but what happens if he is stuck in a fantasy of his own? Granted with special navigation powers and under a curse that grants him immortality, he must complete the Goddess’ Last Prophecy or, like the prophecy says, face the flames. Luckily, he has company. A lot of it.
Relationships: (also used for advertising purposes heh), (the following will come up much later), Bang Chan & Lee Felix, Bang Chan & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Kim Seungmin & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Kudos: 4





	Ad Novās Terrās Nāvigābimus

**Author's Note:**

> Bang Chan goes by Christopher in this fic, but I think the tags told you that already. 
> 
> This is my first time writing and publishing my work publicly; please take it easy on me. I’m trying to do my best. :)
> 
> This concept has been stuck in my head for a long time, around six months I think? I wrote this fic to write all of my ideas out. And, note, this fic is complicated. It combines multiple tropes into this clump; don’t assume it as one trope please.
> 
> Like I said in the description -- if you are ready to fight me for some reason whatsoever, read all of the Behind The Scenes document linked in the endnotes before you do so.

In the year 970 A.E.G, the villagers of Bristol knew Christopher Bang as the best storyteller in town. They spread rumors of him as a prodigy in his art and how he weaved together strings of intricate stories in a matter of seconds. People both young and old and in-between listened attentively to Christopher telling his new, inventive tales every Saturday evening in clusters, gasping and ooh-ing at the twists and turns of the story's plots. And, strangely enough, Christopher Bang was just thirteen years old.

It was rare to come across Christopher Bang outside of his storytimes. The group of neighboring gossip wives, who had a weird obsession with the boy, suspected that this was most likely because of the superstar reputation he had in Bristol. A few group members who have seen Christopher, most cases being him purchasing groceries from the trade market, talked adoringly on how  _ perfect  _ the boy was. Polite, courteous, well-mannered -- everyone who had seen Christopher with their own eyes saw him as gentlemen-like and nothing less. 

With this type of reputation, it's not surprising that the younglings who know and love his work wince when he was around. How could they possibly compare to him, the prodigy? Sure, they obediently followed their parents' guidance and did their chores like there were supposed to, but this type of work was nothing to the remarkable effect that Christopher's village storytellings had. The elders adored Christopher, even willing to do his last bidding, but for the rest of the children? Besides scolding lectures on their so-called mischievous antics, practically nothing.

One day, a group of kids, ages 7 - 9, caught that exact Christopher roaming the sidewalks of the orphanage, where the younglings were playing the classic game of 'kicking the dane's head' in the front yard. The first child to notice him, the youngest Denise, tugged the group's leader's shirt sleeve, eyes in panic.

"Lucas, look! Behind you!" Denise desperately urged. 

The designated boy, a scrawny black-haired boy, slowed the soccer ball the kids played with to rest and turned behind him to see what Denise was bothering him about. When he caught the slightly-cold eyes of Christopher, Lucas briefly shivered and huddled up the rest of the kids.

"So, I think we have a problem. A big, humongous blunder."

"Blimey, then tell us! It was an exciting game!"

Lucas put his right hand on Mark's shoulder in an effort to calm the latter down. "When I mean big, I mean huge, ginormous -- king-sized even. Besides, you have a life ahead of you and therefore plenty of exciting games. Right now, we got a Christopher Bang on our hands."

"Mate, that's bollocks. He can't be -- "

"Enough of this kerfuffle," Katarina piped in before promptly leaving. "Lucas, handle the rest of the blokes. Wendy and I will handle this, for now." 

"What do you mean by…" Mark turned around to see Katarina talking to Christopher. "Oh."

Skylar snickered. "It seems like you've lost the plot again, twit."

"That was unnecessary, you gormless, manky knob head!" 

"Knock it off, you two. You're both just speaking tosh," said Lucas, breaking up the two from having a fist-fight with her own two hands. "Go play over there with Denise and Joshua."

The two huffed. "Fine."

Meanwhile, Katarina, with her posture perfectly upright as if she was no orphan but a posh young lady, approached the incoming celebrity gracefully. By her side was Wendy, a fellow orphan girl her junior by a year, tagging along. As the two of them walked along on the rough cobblestone-like pavement, Katarina made mental notes of how to approach Christopher in her head. Compliment his stories? Probably not. He wouldn't want a passionate listener to hound him. How about having small talk about the weather? Nah, it would be abnormal for a nine-year-old kid to approach her senior like that. She plotted multiple possible points in her head; none of them seemed to make sense. But, one had to, right? Christopher was her idol, her inspiration to start making story ideas herself, and this was the one time that she could express her gratitude to him. 

Yet, he was getting closer, striding his way over with natural confidence. He exemplified lanky, sure, but it was easy to see that he was charismatically attractive. Even without being his fan, she cannot deny that fact. People who didn't know his name, if there were any at all, knew him as the guy with the slightly curly brown hair and sharp green eyes. They would perceive him as sly and rebellious; they always did. Yet, whenever they saw him smile, their opinions changed immediately. His broad smile exuded a cheerful vibe similar to sunshine, brightening the mood of the room around him.

Wendy's out-of-the-blue yelling interrupted her thoughts. 

"Hey, I love your stories, by the way! They're bloody amazing!" 

A short distance away on the pavement, Christopher looked up at the young child in what seemed to be a mix of confusion, amusement, and curiosity. "Thank you, I try my best when making them."

"You're wonderful at storytelling, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" Wendy exclaimed. "I love the one about the tortoise and the hare the most. It was the first one I've ever heard live, and the 'my tempo is more expensive than gold' line that the tortoise says to the hare is amazing. Ever since I first heard it a month ago, I've said that line to myself every day. So far, I have not missed one."

"Wow, I could never relate; I'm a natural at being tardy." Christopher chuckled. "However, I have quite a bit of time on my hands right now with a zero percent chance of being tardy, so please enlighten me on what you like about my stories. I love to hear what people think of them."

Wendy smirked, as if she had a plan up her sleeve, and pointed to Katarina. "I'm not exactly versed in your stories, Mr. Bang, but she is." 

Katarina's eyes widened, and she started to sputter. "U-uh, um, yeah, I'm very familiar with your stories. I know one of them fully memorized...I think."

"Really? That's the first time I've ever heard someone say that. Which one did you memorize?" Christopher questioned the black-haired girl.

"The one with the group of orphan kids escaping the White Society by a bus and establishing their own district, District Nine."

"Ah, yes. That one. That story is among one of my most creative works. This might seem like a stupid question, but what's your opinion on that particular one? From an 'old person' perspective, it seems a tinge bit too rebellious."

"In my opinion," Katarina commented. "I think it's amazing. It's very motivating. As an orphan, and so is Wendy, I love the kids' positions against the White Society. It shows that the social hierarchy implanted in by the elders can be broken."

Christopher went silent for a moment, then gulped. "Wait, you two are orphans?"

Katarina and Wendy nodded shyly, afraid of what he would say next.

"I'm sorry to offend you," Christopher took a glance at Katarina," but I thought Wendy here was your sister. But, anyway, that's phenomenal. I don't know how you guys do it, living life knowing you will not have any direct parental guidance."

"No, no, no, it's perfectly alright. The other orphans think Wendy and I have more of an older/younger sister relationship than we should."

"There's nothing wrong with a close-knit family, never ever," Christopher asserted. "Now, I'm just asking this out of curiosity, but are those children over there from your orphanage as well?"

"Yes, they're quite a handful, though, especially the youngest of them."

"Are they familiar with my work, by any chance?"

"Of course they are," Wendy piped in. "The entire lot is addicted to your stories."

Christopher scratched the back of his neck. "Would they mind a storytime? Also, you guys are invited, too."

"As select representatives of a collective whole, we say this," Wendy proclaimed. "Bloody hell, of course!"

After getting to know the handful lot, as Wendy described, Wendy and Katarina were with and a hearty game of kick the dane's head, Christopher got to know the group more. He found them a fascinating group of orphans. They each were quirky in their own ways; some seemed to be the parent type of the kind, and others seemed to be more mischievous. Their eccentricities amused him immensely; they were a fun group of kids, even if they were orphans, to hang out with. 

Christopher and Lucas eventually huddled the children around a makeshift human circle. The group was going to have storytime as Christopher promised. He was the type of person to keep his word, after all. And, even without his promise to the children, the thirteen-year-old would do it anyway. He wanted to amuse the children as much as they amused him. 

"So, you guys want to hear a story?" There came a loud cheer from the 8-kid crowd.

"Ok, so I made this in my head five minutes ago; it's relatively short. You're the first to hear it. Here it goes."

Christopher counted down from ten to three in his head and took a breath. He started:

_ Once upon a time, there was a man who wielded the power of immortality _

_ He spent his years as the captain of a pirate ship, wandering the seas _

_ Centuries later, after scouring the entire world, he became known as The Wandering Soul. _

_ His crew who accompanied him were strays, never loyal to a fault, sailing with him from pole to pole _

_ The man, with a good judge of character, took care of them when they needed him most after hearing their pleas _

_ "I see your pains, your struggles," he said to every last one of them. "Let's fight them together, one step at a time." _

_ And so they did, trekking across the seven seas among many lifetimes _

_ The captain loved and lost, a cycle that ensued due to old age _

_ They came and left, each time leaving their stories behind and with each new wave being a new page _

_ Of stone-written history and times to never return, the captain continued to endure _

_ Eventually, the journey led the captain to an island where not the giants roamed _

_ But the spirit of the fox resided there instead, its mischievous nature being renown _

_ The captain, kind and stern, approached the spirit with caution but ended up with a surprise _

_ The spirit shared a vital secret of the world, and the crew and spirit became allies _

_ For the diamonds that the fox's cave held a danger inside _

_ Without interference, the world was presumably doomed _

_ The prophecy of the jewel held a black rose that will eventually bloom _

_ Into a source of hope if the answer was found _

_ The secrets that bury the answer to the ground are clandestine and abound _ .

_ Yet they spelled out a hint that was in need of a decipher _

_ One to save, one to kill _

_ With chaos needed to be controlled, with justice needed to be instilled _

_ The next savior of the world will take the wheel _ .

_ Where they will stand up and show their skills _

_ For, at one point, life is no more a time for practice, but the real deal _

_ The world is at stake, and no one will leave unscathed if what is to be done is not done. _

The orphans gazed at Christopher in shock and loudly clapped.

"Mr. Christopher," Katarina started, "that just became my new favorite story from you."

Christopher gave her his signature wide smile. "Thank you, I'm glad to hear that."

Long after the times of their loud collective laughter and long after Christopher's friendly departure, the orphans had a lot to think about. First of all, they needed to rethink their opinions about Christopher; he wasn't as bad as they thought. At least when they were with him, he was nothing but a kind, brotherly figure. They unanimously agreed that they would thank him immensely for what he did the next time they see him. Of course, if they ever did.

###

When he was a child, Christopher used to think of himself as ordinary, a normal British boy. As he grew up, fate proved him wrong. And boy, he was off by a long shot.

He thought of his storytelling reputation as nothing more than infallible. The locals were only impressed that he was bold enough to tell his stories, apparently good ones, to the general public. Not to mention, they seemed more interested in his age than what he drabbled on about. They only saw him as a young pre-teen who spoke fictional wonderlands to a crowd around him. 

At least, that was what he thought before approaching those kids from the local orphanage. The oldest girl out of that group, Katarina, was a major catalyst of the ‘Prove Christopher Wrong’ campaign. Most likely, it was not intentional, but maybe it was a good influence on him? Fate either threw him a curse or a blessing in disguise with that one, he thought.

The entire group, not just Katarina, seemed to know his stories. They knew every last one of them like the back of their hands. When Christopher played ‘kick the dane’s head’ with the children, they often tossed subtle yet indisputable references to his stories. Skylar, the witty and cynical boy in the group, mentioned allusions to Yellow Wood, the third story he has ever told to the public. He tossed around different items from the story randomly: the diversion between the two moons, the rattling cart -- hell, he even snarkily commented about “the ticket to the new world” once. There were more allusions said as well, way too many to count. 

Indisputably, they proved his previous ideologies to be wrong. Once he changed those ideologies to be more realistic and optimistic, he would be off for the better.

As said before, fate loves proving to him wrong and that everything he  _ thinks  _ he has done right is dreadfully wrong.

Christopher thinks his navigation skills are alright. He knows how to get from place to place and can do it in any manner he likes. From quickly and efficiently to continuously and stealthily, he can get anywhere from anywhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s an alleyway or a public pavement; he can do it. He always does and never without fail.

Well, him having 100% accuracy on his navigation skills isn’t exactly a problem. It is more of where these abilities come from, that is. The way he found out? 

One day, he nearly fainted on the strength from accessing this strange power. That definitely wasn’t fun.

He was getting groceries from the local market from his parents, the usual. When he was on his way home, there was an iffy road bump: a large metal fence blocked the alley he would usually return to his home by. It desperately needed to be cleaned, apparently, so Christopher went to the alley right over. 

As soon as he went in, he felt dizzy. It was the stomach-sick, busting guts type of nausea. Had it not been for his reflexes causing him to step out of that alleyway the next second, he would have fainted. Hitting himself in the head with one large slap, he recovered from shock from what just happened.

He stepped into the alley again. This time, there was no pain but a massive headache. 

“Young sir, you have done it,” an elderly motherly voice pierced through the fuzz from the headache.

Wait, this isn’t normal. This isn’t at all. Was he going insane? He shouldn’t be able to hear strange voices in his head. And, done what? He just stepped in a random alleyway he probably shouldn’t be going in. What was going on?

As if it had read his thoughts, the voice spoke again.

“You have truly accessed your third eye.”

What in the name of murder is a third eye? For hell’s sake, the last time he remembered, humans were only supposed to have two eyes. Having a third one is and should be impossible, right? You would have to have to make an opening on your face, then implant a spare eyeball from who knows where in that hole. Even that was not humanly possible.

Christopher asked his parents later at dinner what a “third eye” was. They gave no response; they just shook their heads in silence. 

Dinner for the Bangs that night was much quieter than usual. 

###

It was years later when he found out what the third eye meant. It turned out to be tied to one of the many grand schemes of the Goddess. 

The Goddess, Supreme Ruler of the universe, left many tracks of her existence. There were so many to the point that archeologists gathered enough artifacts to have an entire museum that could prove her existence. She left this among many other things.

To the unsuspecting humans in the world, having evidence of objects centuries old was the only thing left from the Goddess. For those involved in the Goddess’ charade, there was something much bigger. It was a force to be reckoned with, one that could erase the world out of existence if the dice happens to roll out of Earth’s inhabitants’ favors. 

This force is, as one in the modern world would call it, superpowers. 

These superpowers were dangerous to mess with in general. They influenced the Earth in ways most think is impossible. A person traveling the world in half of a millisecond? A person who can brunt the impact of a volcano, tornado, and hurricane at once, then not coming out with a single scratch? It should be impossible, right?

Ddaeng! Wrong. 

There was a tiny percentage of the population with a superpower, each one special in their own way. At first glance, their impact might not seem like much, but they do have the power to significantly influence the world if used properly. 

Christopher Bang was the first of this minuscule percentage. Being the first to encounter these powers, he did not know the storm that was coming.

A storm would be a grand understatement for what was coming; a supernova would suit this situation more.

For Christopher, the Goddess did not just grant him the ability to move from place to place. It was of the navigational sense, yes, but it is much more complicated than just moving. To classify Christopher’s powers, one simply has to note the three places he can navigate: the known world, the unknown, and the mental dreamscape. 

The known world is a simple concept to understand; it is the physical ground and landscape normal beings walk and interact in. Navigating through alleyways is a sliver-of-a-hair portion of his control over the known world. Countries, continents, islands, lakes, rivers, oceans -- it was all his to maneuver. Naturally, Christopher would come to know all of these and much more like the back of his hand. It was unfortunate that he didn’t explore these capabilities until after the start of the 1000s. 

The unknown landscape is more complicated. In simple terms, the unknown world consists of all of the hidden places in the world that have yet to be discovered and inhabited. Even to this day in the modern age, there is plenty of the unknown world left. It is not going to be uncovered for a very long while. 

And, the mental dreamscape? Don’t worry about it, for now at least.

There are many questions to be answered, eh? Well, don’t fret. There is one more important piece of information left before Christopher’s adventure will continue to unfold: What is the third eye? 

The third eye would refer to the voice in Christopher’s head. That elderly motherly voice? That is it, the third eye. It would aid him in his journey between the known, unknown, and dream landscapes over the years. It would tell him the information he desired to know subconsciously. Let’s just say that this inspired Jarvis in the Iron Man movies much later.

For the many gifts the power brought him, one can assume he lived life like royalty, right?

Apparently, never. Instead, fate loved bringing him curses. One particular curse comes in the form of age. 

On Christopher’s 35th birthday, his parents noticed something was off. They had suspicions for a while, but it wasn’t until this exact day until it was clear. So, Christopher’s mom, Scarlet, approached their son about the problem.

“Son,” Scarlet addressed sweetly, “I think we have a problem.”

Christopher took a glance at his mother. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Have you noticed that you’ve looked the same for a while? As if…”

“Like I never aged?” Christopher interrupted.

“Yeah.” Scarlet took a gulp. “I like youth, Christopher, but have you wondered those times where you have too much of something?”

“What are you implying, mother?”

“You haven’t aged in a while. Could it be…”

“From what I am understanding, Mother, it sounds like you are saying that I lived longer than I should as if I was supposed to die years ago.”

Scarlet panicked, hands shaking. “No, no, no! I don’t mean it like that! I mean, have you ever considered immortality to be real?”

“Real, Mother?” Christopher raised an eyebrow. “How could it be so? That’s a myth, isn’t it?”

“I would have said the same had it not been for your face not changing one feature for the past ten years.”

Christopher scratched the back of his neck. “I have not?”

Scarlet nodded. “Yes, son. That’s what the neighbors have been talking about for the past six months: the possibility of you having some sort of immortality. Anything related to that possibly, but they’re not sure yet.”

“Which neighbors, mother?”

“The ones across from us, the Harmons.”

Christopher shook his head.

“For my entire life, that family has always been correct about any rumor they spread. Bloody hell, Mother, this is great.”

“Son, anything is possible. For now, just focus on the present and not the future. Carpe diem on now. Today’s the one day of the year where you should be able to forget your problems, fly off like a butterfly.” Scarlet patted his back lightly. 

Christopher’s once expression-less face turned into a small smile, then he gave his mother a bear hug. “Thank you. Thank you for everything, Mother.”

Scarlet hugged him back tightly as well. “It’s the best thing I could do to help you after the happiness you brought me all these years, son.”

###

Many years later after that day, Christopher stood in front of his parents’ graves, two handmade bouquets of hydrangeas in his hands. His usually astute posture was more slightly slumped in the moment of this occasion. Christopher’s normally curly brown hair is now platinum blonde due to Christopher’s impulsiveness and as a way to cope with his grief. Out of almost everything that changed, however, one feature remained the same with his age. 

The Harmons, the oracle-like neighbors who lived across the street from the Bangs, did predict right. He was no longer aging, and, according to them, he will most likely never again. Even after thirty-five years, his youth has not changed. Christopher has been taking notes of his appearance ever since his mother came to him that fateful day, and he has not changed one tiny bit. Most of the younger children he has known since childhood have aged and looked more like their mental age. On the other hand, Chan had a mental age of 70, yet he still looked like he was someone in his 20’s.

Christopher looked down at the two graves’ engravings.

_ Scarlet Bang  _

_ 945 - 1015 _

_ Wife of Daniel, Mother of Christopher _

_ A loving and caring mother for her family and those who knew her _

_ May she rest in the stars peacefully with her husband at her side _

_ Daniel Bang _

_ 940 - 1013 _

_ Husband of Scarlet, Father of Christopher _

_ A bold yet intelligent man who showed pure courage to those around him _

_ May he rest in the stars peacefully with his wife at his side _

“Oh, how I wish they’re still alive,” he murmured to himself. “I hope they live their lives in the afterlife happily, may you both rest in the stars in peace, Mother and Father.”

Christopher gently placed one hydrangea bouquet on the footsteps of each grave. Wiping a stray tear from his face, he took a longing glance at the gravestones and clomped back to his home. Briefly picking up a package of wrapped parchment at his door, he slammed the door with a loud  _ bang  _ and placed the parchment on the closest table before breaking down in the emptiness of his home.

Little did he know that that exact parchment left at his door would introduce Christopher’s first calling to the sea. 

###

“Jake, raise the sails! Alice, be on look out!” Christopher yelled from the foremast. The two sailors complied.

Christopher peered down at the endless sea under the star-studded moonlit sky. The blanket of blue hues below, with its wrinkles that would pass every once in a while, spread for miles to the point that no end of the blue was in sight. Fish and birds would come near occasionally, but Shuriken, Christopher, and the rest of the crew were left alone with the mysterious sea for the most part. It was daunting to be alone with the sea at first, knowing that it held supreme control over his crew members’ lives. 

He took a look behind at him at the interior of the Shuriken. Knowing that his ship was in-tact in perfect condition gave him comfort from these worries. The food supply, among other things, was the least of his worries; the main concern has always been the Shuriken capsizing. Thankfully, in the centuries that Christopher has been captain of Shuriken, it has never happened once.

One may argue that ship life is exhausting over long periods of time, but Christopher does not think so. If the sea does not entertain him, the crew he has on Shuriken definitely will. Their shenanigans, mostly either chaotic or responsible, have entertained him for years. He loves his crew endearingly, looking over them in both a professional and parental manner. Most of the time, however, he’s always been the parental figure of this ship household. 

(Sometimes, he questions how these situations come to light, but he never regrets letting a crew member onto the Shuriken ever.)

Overall, in the pirate world, Christopher had a very famous reputation for being kind yet stern. He would take in the outcasts and the strays in society under their consent and give them purpose on the Shuriken. He’s gathered a strange lot from different places in the world over the years, but, regardless of where a crew member is originally from, they have all proven their worth as a crew member on the Shuriken. Christopher has always had the talent of recognizing good character. He selects people with reasonable needs to escape society and teaches them all they need to know about being a full-time sailor. A few crew members started learning about the life of being a sailor from scratch. 

As said before, Christopher does not regret it. He likes making memories, even if they are not always good ones.

(He just calls the bad memories bonding time. His crewmates call those times a fun slice of hell served on a silver platter.)

Currently, in the year 1450 A.E.G., the Shuriken was scouring the Mediterranean Sea with a target of reaching Greece. 

Why Greece, one may ask? It is very simple.

Along with most of the crew, Christopher wanted to fact-check the legitimacy of Homer and his epic poems The Iliad and Odyssey. Yes, he perfectly and very much knows that sailors, especially captains, should not be sailing out of impulse, but here he was. It’s the 1400s, right? What could possibly go wrong?

“Nicky! Go wake up the crew, we’re 20 from reaching Trinacria!”

“Sir, yes, sir! Everyone?”

“Yes, please.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Nicky, a tiny orange-haired boy, scampered off to the berthing compartments. Christopher shook his head and muttered lightly under his breath.

“Aish, those kids. They still won’t call me Christopher; being referred to sir makes me old. Just don’t call me Chrispy.” 

He watched the constellations from his view on this ship till he could sense his crew behind him from their light chatter. Christopher turned to look at them with a stern look. 

“Alright kiddos, listen up, it may be bloody 2 am, but we are ten minutes from Trinacria. Luckily for you all, I’m not a prat, so we will be settling here for the night. Make sure you get a good night of sleep. We will be departing the Shuriken at eight tomorrow, and, from what I know, there will be a lot of walking.”

The crew groaned.

“Hey, be grateful that I did not make you get off this ship right now,” Christopher joked.

There was not a single complaint from a crewmate for the rest of the night.

###

Christopher did not expect the land of Trinacria to be like this at all.

When he read the Iliad and the Odyssey, he thought of the island to be mostly barren except for rocks and cyclops. He was very wrong; Trinacria held a fantastical paradise compared to no other. The grass, one of the most noticeable parts of the scenery, was a vibrant shade of lime and shamrock green. Soft and fluffily, thin strands of it flowed in the wind, waving back and forth to its wanderers. Tall and sturdy trees, a combination of oak and birch, stood tall, shielding its fellow inhabitants from the hot sun. Small animals from both the sky and the Earth coexisted peacefully, doing their individual jobs with high-pitched squeaks or melodic chirps. There was even a pond, its waters cerulean and still. Various flowers in a multitude of colors grew on the outskirts of the pond, blooming beautifully and elegantly.

Homer sort-of lied about the cave as well. First, there were no cyclops; there were no living creatures besides the ones in the forest. And, second, one had to venture all the way to the center of Trinacria to see the cave.

Somehow, on the way there, not a single crew member whined about the long walk. They just ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the storybook-like vistas around them. Even more impressive, in his opinion, was the fact that he brought the  _ entire  _ crew with him.

When they arrived at the cave, Christopher faced a dilemma on whether to allow any of the crew members to follow him or not. He decided otherwise.

“Kiddos,” Christopher announced to the crew at the mouth of the cave. “I hope and pray to the Goddess that you won’t scamper off anywhere and get lost for the next few hours.”

“What do you mean by getting lost?” Alex, a newcomer to the Shuriken crew Christopher recruited up in Germany, questioned his captain.

Alice retorted. “Chris, where will you be off to?”

Christopher looked at her for a moment before pointing to the cave. “There. I’m letting you guys have some fun here in the forest. You haven’t seen land for a while; I hope you guys do behave yourselves though.”

“You’re going into the cave without us?” Hitomi, a girl from Japan, queried.

“Yeah,” Christopher gulped before continuing. “It’s not like I didn’t want to leave you guys out; I’m worried about what it is in the cave.”

“How would that affect us?” Daniel asked from the back.

“Think about it, Daniel. The cave could collapse at any moment. If it does, you’ll be dead among the rubble. I may be injured, but I’ll still be alive no matter how bad I get hurt.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” Nicky responded. 

All of the crew shook their heads, both at Nicky’s excessive politeness and Christopher’s out-of the box logic.

###

This cave is really, really dark,” Christopher said to himself, pointing the flame-end of the torch he held in the darkness. He truly was taking a shot in the dark, eh?

Thankfully, Christopher had carefully planned the trip to this cave. He brought a leather knapsack full of items he would need in the typical cave: a water-filled canteen, a box of matches ready to use, a small jagged dagger, and a long line of rope. From what Christopher has seen in this cave so far, the cave seems normal. The floor is an unorganized mess of uneven and sharp gray rocks about to rust. The walls were dripping in slimy brown mud; if there were no mud or gravel, there would be faded mint moss. It was a typical large hole in the earth that attracted everything nasty with it.

Oh, wait, the only thing abnormal about this cave so far is that it has no name. Gosh, Homer, use your common sense and, for bloody hell’s sake, name the cave at least.

He kept walking among the rocks, making sure that he did not trip and fall onto any of those sharp rocks. That would grandly suck, and his crew would make sure to make fun of him for it. And, from there, he continued to walk. Rock. Rock. More rocks...and a light in the distance?

Christopher pointed the torch downwards, covered the rays of light from the torch with his other hand, and squinted at the “light.” Was that a light or was it a trick of Christopher’s eyes? Well, there was only one way to find out. He picked up his torch and continued to move.

Right foot in front. Left foot after. Right foot in front. Left foot after. He ventured further into the cave until he reached the light. 

What Christopher saw afterwards was the most unusual sight in the world.

The floor was rocky no more. An abnormally fancy wooden bridge etched in ornate designs replaced it instead. It stretched across the cave floor as if it was a walkway of some sort. The balustrades, fancy and pillar-like, held the source of the light on them: candles. There was one on every individual balustrade. It was like the good old days where he was the star, and the candles were the people in the crowd listening to the stories. He hasn’t felt an experience like this in a long while.

As Christopher walked across that bridge, he could not help but think of how the bridge came to be. This bridge, one of the fanciest ones he has seen in all of his centuries of living, was in the middle  _ of a cave _ . What was the reason for this bridge being here? Did someone live here? If so, who?

“Why hello, Mr. Christopher Bang,” a welcoming voice called out from further inside the cave. “I’ve been waiting to see you for a while.”

There was his answer. 

“Hello. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, who are you and how in bloody hell do you know my name?”

The person giggled. “And there’s the cursing, as I expected. The answer to your question is that I know.”

“That does not answer my question at all.”

“I just know. That’s the clearest answer I can give you.”

“Huh, that’s weird. I’m sure you have to hear my name from somewhere else to know it.”

The voice, low and husky, responded. “I have heard rumors, yes, but I have known you before hearing those as well.”

“I see. You’re quite a strange person then.”

“Indeed, Christopher. Oh, I haven’t introduced myself. Goodness gracious, I apologize for your inconvenience; you must be wondering who I am.”

The owner of the voice walked into Christopher’s view from behind the cave wall. Out from the shadows emerged a tall man with short black hair parted down the middle. He adorned a dark gray Japanese kimono, the hems flowy following him as he elegantly walked. Pulling out his folding fan, silver-colored with a black transition at its ends, from his pocket and fanning himself with it, the man looked at Christopher with a warm gaze.

“People refer to me as the Kumiho, the nine-tailed fox, but you can call me Jeonghan.”

“You’re the Kumiho? There are many rumors of you trying to seduce people to steal their wisdom; I’ve heard many stories about that rumor over the centuries I have lived in.”

“Wait.” Jeonghan took two sniffs of the air randomly before looking back at Christopher. “Ah, okay, I understand what you mean by that, but that is horrifying.”

Christopher raised an eyebrow. “That’s horrifying to you? What did you do to cause it then? There must be something…”

“Does killing an entire gang of cyclops count?”

Christopher stared at him, his eyes wide open in shock. He coughed in a fit before responding. “Yes, of course, it is. You offended the Greeks.”

“Hey, they tried to eat me as barbeque earlier, so I stole their soul first,” Jeonghan defended. 

“Bloody hell, that’s terrifying. You can do that?”

“I can, but I don’t have the will to do so, especially with you. Actually, I need to deliver you something.” Jeonghan picked up a nearby treasure chest and shook it.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know; ask the Goddess herself.” Jeonghan shrugged. “She handed this to me and asked me to give it to her 97th descendant when the time comes around.”

“I’m the descendant of the Goddess?” Christopher was about to fall on his knees from how much new information Jeonghan handed him.

“Yes, you are,” Jeonghan shook the chest again and took another sniff of the air. “Gosh, this is mysterious. And heavy. What did she put in here?”

Christopher’s suspicions were confirmed. The third eye? The immortality? The natural navigation skills he once questioned himself about? This was it; he knew it was related to the Goddess somehow, but he wasn’t aware that he was directly related. He has researched about every artifact she laid around the planet and has always looked up to her wisdom because of what she wrote in her scriptures. He’s always motivated himself to treat people no matter what because of her. Now, this happens?

The feeling -- this moment -- it’s almost unbelievable.

“I don’t know; let’s find out,” Christopher responded. He walked to Jeonghan and took the chest from the fox spirit’s hands. Reaching in his knapsack, he pulled out a spare rusty paper clip, unfolded it to make it like a straight metal stick, and pick-pocketed the lock on the chest. The chest rattled as Christopher did so, and Jeonghan looked upon the sight in awe.

“I almost forgot that paperclip was in your knapsack.”

Christopher looked at him in suspicion right as he undid the chest’s lock. “How did you know I have a paperclip in my knapsack? That was one of my best-kept secrets.”

“Intuition.” Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “So what’s in the box? I’ve been waiting to see this for years.”

Christopher slowly lifted the head of the chest. An inch. An inch. Another inch.

He saw a scribble of “97th Descendant Curse” and a jewel-like reflection of a clump of shiny diamonds before his vision suddenly went black. 

Christopher had no idea of what he was witnessing from there on forth. He didn’t even know what to call it besides a strange dream. One thing was clear, though: the dream was not a pretty one. It was anything but.

He witnessed the earth destroying itself, cracking itself apart until there was only lava left. People were running and screaming in the streets. Buildings shook until they collapsed, rubble falling from the sky. Fires started from above and below. The roads cracked apart bit by bit as if multiple earthquakes happened at the same time. Gasoline exploded everywhere, causing flammable infrastructure to burst into flames. 

Christopher wanted to help desperately, but he couldn’t. He was like a spirit in this discord-filled world who was unable to touch nothing. He could only stand and watch. 

###

“Oi, wake up.”

The pain from the horrific nightmare started to subside. Christopher felt something hit his cheek. Once. Twice. Then, his eyes, finally surrendering to its owner’s will, opened, leaving Christopher back in his world. 

“Oi, wake up.” Then came another slap to the cheek. Christopher blinked his eyes, getting his vision into focus, and saw Jeonghan leaning over his currently supine position. 

“Are you finally up? Thank goodness, the Goddess would send me back to hell if I killed her descendant.”

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “ I just saw you passing out thirty minutes ago, and I’ve been here since watching over your unconscious body. You understand more about  _ that  _ situation than I do.”

“I just witnessed the world falling apart.” Christopher gritted his teeth. “Oh, yeah, I also have a curse on me. That explains all of this weird sorcery that has been happening around me my entire life.”

The Kumiho took a glance of concern at the other. “It’s not your fault; you were born with it. It’s like you blaming yourself for having brown hair; it makes you sound stupid. And, besides, I took a look at that chest when you were in unconsciousness land.”

“Really? What was in it?”

“Two pieces of parchment written in Latin and then the rest of it? Diamonds galore. The first note is for me, though.”

Christopher weakly beckoned to the other with quick hand movements. “Let me see the chest.” The fox spirit silently complied, lying the chest near Christopher. 

He sat up and pushed the chest towards himself. He lifted the head of it slowly as he did before. Creak. Creak.

This time came no fainting, no pain. There only was the sight of two pieces of parchment laying on top of a pile of shiny, periwinkle diamonds. 

Christopher took one of the two pieces of paper and started to mentally skim.

_ Est quis servare  _

_ Est quis occidare _

_ Vias errantas sequor _

_ Vel flammas aspectus _

_ Jeonghan, my love, I have done the unbearable. _

_ Though I do not want to admit it, I have to. _

_ I did not intend to do this; I swear on my own well-being I didn’t. _

_ It was a mistake, one done out of impulse, and I couldn’t dodge its consequences _ .

_ The curse -- it will be a chiliad before it is lifted. _

_ My descendant, 97th one I believe, will be struck by it, however _ .

_ He will have to face pain, but I assure you, he is strong _ .

_ I could sense it from my inner being _ .

_ Take it easy, my love. I will make sure to visit him when the time comes _ .

_ I will handle it, I promise.  _

He read the second note.

_ I apologize, Christopher, for cursing you with this. It was my mistake and my fault for being so impulsive, so I will help you on this journey. I see stuff happening in the future by visions, so I will be telling you of what I saw. Let me inform you of a few notable things. _

_ You’ve met Jeonghan already; he’s a nice guy. Mischievous sometimes, but he’s one of the most intelligent people I know. He, in some way, will aid you on this mission, and, once you meet his future descendant, you’ll be on your way. I didn’t hear the name of the descendant clearly, but I know it also starts with Jeong-. You’ll find out his name in the distant future, I guess. I can’t help you with that. _

_ Now, for the actual problem, I’ve tripped up a prophecy that caused your curse. I call it the 97th Descendant curse, but you can call it whatever you want. It’ll probably change in the future anyway. This curse is your immortality. Fate considers it a curse to watch people die (it’s how I paraphrase it), so it has left you with that burden. You are strong, however, I know it; I have no worries about that part. Trust me, I’ve been through that; it hurts like hell, but time heals wounds. Remember that. _

_ Jeonghan knows Latin (I’m not sure if you do), but I’ll explain it to you anyway in case he doesn’t. There is one to save / There is one to kill / Follow the straying paths / Or face the flames.  _

_ The people you need to save and kill appear in the 21st century. It is very obvious who you need to save; the problem is who to kill. They are both politicians.  _

_ Please, please, please write things you see down. You never know what good the notes might bring. _

_ Good luck.  _

When he finished reading, he looked up to see Jeonghan scrutinizing him. The younger of them sighed.

“This will be a grand pain in the ass.”

“Oh, it definitely will be. It’ll be a nice story to tell, though, if you make it through.”

“If I do.”

“Yes, if you do. Now, go on -- your crew is waiting. They have been waiting for hours. And, remember, don’t forget to write things down.”

“Write things down...hmmm, I’ll note that. Thanks Jeonghan, I hope you’re safe in your travels.”

“Likewise. Take care, Christopher.”

###

He would keep his promises to Jeonghan. He wrote twice every day, day and night. He made sure to keep sufficient supplies of parchment and ink to ensure that he could write records of those days. 

(By the end of those years, he compiled enough bi-daily journals to fill a library.) 

As he did so, his crews had come and gone. Once a crewmember grew too old to be traveling in the Shuriken, they would depart the ship at the dock and never would Christopher hear from them again. Regardless of whether he would see his crewmates again or not, he always kept them in his heart no matter what. They taught him many things; he could never repay the favor for how important these teachings were in his life. 

Seokjin Kim taught him how to heal. That was, arguably, one of the most important lessons to him ever.

He would meet him during the years of the Roaring Twenties. Out of brash recklessness, he tried to cross the no man’s zone during the Irish Civil War and got himself shot in the arm with an arrow. Unfortunately, at the time, there was no healer on the ship. Christopher dealt with the pain for two weeks. 

Yi-Zhou, a herbalist turned Shuriken crewmate Christopher scouted in Harbin, China, during those two weeks, told him about the one and only Seokjin. 

“There are many rumors of him in my hometown,” she explained to him. “He can heal anything. He healed innocent pigeons and their broken wings. He healed human beings on the brink of death. People call him a miracle worker.”

Christopher was unsure of whether to trust her or not. “Are you sure? What if the rumors are wrong?” 

“He went to my hometown once and saw my grandmother with an open fracture to her femur. He healed it in an instant.”

“Whatever you say. Are you sure though?”

“I’m a hundred percent positive, Chris.”

From there, the Shuriken sailed to Manhattan.

He always would remember Seokjin’s reaction to him when he entered Seokjin’s pharmacy with an arrow in his arm that day.

Yi-Zhou came with him to the pharmacy to make sure he won’t get hurt on his way there. She made sure that he kept his balance and acted as a support for Christopher to lean on. When she and Christopher arrived at the pharmacy, Christopher was leaning onto Yi-Zhou with his left because he nearly lost his footing a while earlier. 

Seokjin came out from the back of his shop to assist them, but he started at Christopher in horror when he saw the arrow. He rushed to help Yi-Zhou as another support.

“What in the world happened to you?”

Christopher chuckled. “A lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“How about going into the middle of a battlefield during the Irish Civil War and getting shot by someone on the Irish Free State side?”

Seokjin face-slapped himself. “What the hell. Now come on, we gotta get you treated. That arrow isn’t going to treat itself.”

Seokjin led the two of them to the back of the pharmacy in a hurry, setting Christopher onto a gurney as soon as he entered. He closed the door and locked it right after. 

“Where are we?” Yi-Zhou questioned the pharmacist.

“My private office for cases like these. Now, my question for you is how did you two get here. Do you know who he is?” 

The girl gulped. “Umm...yes? He’s Christopher Bang, right?”

Seokjin brought his voice down to a whisper. “Not just any Christopher Bang, he’s the descendant of the Goddess. He’s legendary; he talked to the Kumiho in the 1400s and witnessed the Resurrection among other things.”

“And what is that going to do for him?”

“I’m going to take out the arrow, then ask him a few questions about that before you guys leave. Luckily, you came to the right person. I can do the remove-the-arrow part in an instant.”

“An instant?” Christopher piped up from the back. “How would that work?”

“Depends on how you want to do it,” the pharmacist replied. He turned to Christopher. “Pain or no pain?”

“Uh...no pain please?”

“Well, you have two options. The pain without any numbing would be painful. That means I have to numb you somehow.” Seokjin opened a nearby cabinet, grabbed a piece of paper and pencil, placed the items on the desk, then closed the cabinet. “Would you like me to personally numb you or an anesthetic?”

Yi-Zhou looked at the pharmacist with concern. “How would you numb him?”

“It’s simple but complicated. He has to trust me, though.” Seokjin glanced at Christopher. “Are you willing?”

“Of course. Now, what would the treatment be?”

“I’ll distract you from the pain for a minute or two. I’m going to pull out the arrow quickly and use my abilities to make your skin self-repair itself in less than a millisecond.”

“What do you mean by abilities?”

“You see, I don’t know exactly how this works, but I have whatever he has. I don’t know the term for it, sorry, so I just call it abilities. No one has ever told me. I tried telling my relatives about it, but apparently they can’t hear what I’m saying. At least, I think so.”

“What type of abilities do you have then?”

“Healing. That’s why I do this job part-time.”

Christopher nodded. “I see. So, what’s the distraction you were talking about?”

“Hmm...how does a kiss sound?”

Christopher and Yi-Zhou questioned him in sync. “On the lips?”

“If you want. I’m just going to distract you with a kiss while I pull out the arrow.” Seokjin shrugged. 

“I mean, whatever you want to do, I guess? This is my first kiss.”

“I can adjust to your needs, Mr. Christopher; a kiss on the cheek will do. But, really, out of the centuries you have lived, you have not had a single kiss? No girls or boys to attract you, eh?”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy, as you probably have heard from all of my writings. I published them in a variety of places.”

“Of course, I’ve followed them as an avid reader myself, no worries there.” Seokjin gestured with his eyes to the arrow in Christopher’s arm. “Now to get that arrow out of your arm? I promise it will be quick.”

Christopher leaned his arrow-inflicted arm towards Seokjin. “Do your thing.”

The pharmacist stood up from the short white stool he was sitting on and went to prepare for what was about to come. He washed his hands at the sink and dried them off with a spare paper towel. Throwing that into the trash, he wrote a quick note on the nearby piece of paper he left out earlier, grabbed a small bottle of alcohol disinfectant and a cotton swab, and took a seat on the gurney near Christopher.

“This should be quick,” Seokjin said to the two other occupants in the room before turning to the patient in the room. “Ready?”

“For the pain? Sure. What are you going to do, just pull it out?”

“Precisely, Mr. Christopher. You know the rest of the procedure, I hope?”

“Of course. ”

Seokjin looked at Christopher earnestly. “Here it goes.”

He leaned in to kiss Christopher’s right cheek, angling his head to the right so he had a view of the arrow-inflicted right arm. He briefly numbed his patient’s pain sensors right before yanking the bloody arrow and enforcing an instant self-repair spell to the area of the wound right after. The skin healed by itself, no bruises or blood left behind.

Seokjin leaned out of the cheek kiss. “You alright?”

“U-uh...yeah. I guess I am.”

“The arrow’s out,” the pharmacist pointed out.

Christopher took a look at his right arm to find it arrow-less and sighed in relief. “Goodness gracious, it’s finally out. Thank you so much.”

Yi-Zhou looked over at the two. “That was the flirtiest surgery I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Hush it, Yi-Zhou,” said Christopher in affection to the Chinese girl. “You’ve never seen any surgery besides mine just now.”

Seokjin coughed to get their attention. “If you don’t mind, I would like to ask you guys some questions about this ability knick-knack thing.”

“Sure,” both said. “Shoot as many as you want. We will answer them all.”

###

A few days later, after Christopher and Yi-Zhou offered him a position on their ship, Seokjin joined the Shuriken crew. Since then, Seokjin stayed on board the vessel and remained on it until Christopher’s very last crew in 1989.

The last trace of Seokjin that remained on the ship was a flyer. 

_ Eight-year-old mastermind and child prodigy Seungmin Kim will speak at the TED Conference in Long Beach, California. He is the youngest speaker ever, breaking multiple records. _

Christopher read the flyer twice before looking up at the sight above him.

“Oh no, not again. I thought I was done with this wild goose chase.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hoped you enjoyed reading this. It was really fun to make, but I was really worried that people would lose interest because of how complicated this “A.U.” is.
> 
> →  
> For those who are willing to follow this fic in its writing process, please note the following:
> 
> 1\. I have to mention this over and over again, but it is necessary. This is not much of a romance fic so far; only the first ship (Minsung) is a romantic relationship. Minho and Jisung will appear around Chapter 3/4/5, so don’t expect romance for a while. I'll weave it in in the end...I think so at least.
> 
> 2\. This is a Stray Kids fic, but a few SKZ members will not be appearing for a while (and with that, I mean Chapter 7 type of late). I’m prioritizing the making of the other 7 SKZ members’ appearances, don’t worry. :)
> 
> 3\. Inventions appear in time periods before their invention in real life. I’m a hypocrite, I know. Australia, paper clips -- wow. 
> 
> 4\. There are behind-the-scenes for this fic for those interested! It is here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yIbn_juwoSAg7xENkGt97HZ_q7A95Q6YVHOKpJvNBZo/edit
> 
> →
> 
> Want to chat with me about the fic or K-pop? DM me on Twitter at “@chocolattewings”! Call me Minnie when you DM if you want to be answered.
> 
> Other social medias I use are in my description. :D


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